A Not So Leisurely Spin
by softballchic34
Summary: Don's leisurely Sunday afternoon motorcycle ride doesn't turn out to be so pleasant.


A Not So Leisurely Spin  
Written for Livejournal Don Eppes Hurt Challenge Prompts #5 November '09: Don, Earthquake, California. and #10 April '10: Don, Motorcycle, Highway  
Disclaimer: I do not own Numb3rs or any of the characters nor do I make any profit. No copy right infringement intended.  
Spoilers: The Fifth Man, Shadow Markets, and Cause and Effect  
Summary: Don's leisurely Sunday afternoon motorcycle ride doesn't turn out to be so pleasant.

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It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon in California and Don had the day off from work. He decided to take his motorcycle out for a leisurely spin around the Pacific Coast Highway since Robin was busy prepping for a big trial, Alan was golfing with Art and Stan, and Charlie and Amita were doing their own thing.

The Pacific Coast Highway was a beautiful drive and very relaxing for Don, he'd had a really rough week at work and was long overdue for a day off to unwind. Being a Sunday afternoon there was some traffic but not an overwhelming amount that would have Don turning around to head home.

Don could feel the wind rippling the arms of his leather jacket as he went around the curves rather fast. Coming to a straight stretch Don accelerated a little more. He was enjoying the open road and the freedom that came with it.

Suddenly Don felt the ground start to shake underneath the bike. Don was slowing down to pull over but lost control as the earthquake got even more violent. He tried to regain control but the earthquake made his attempt futile. Don was near the edge of the road when the bike tipped sideways and Don skidded across the asphalt before rolling down the steep rocky embankment. He lost consciousness when his helmet clad head bounced rather roughly off a large rock. His unconscious body continued to slide and roll down the embankment until reached a spot where the ground flattened out about ten feet from where the cliff edge dropped off into the ocean.

When Don woke up he wasn't sure how much time had passed since the crash. He thought it may have been several hours since the sky was darker but then he realized that we was looking up at the sky through the tinted visor of his helmet. Don attempted to reach up with both hands to pull the helmet off but quickly discovered that something was seriously wrong with his right arm and shoulder judging by the amount of pain. He pulled his helmet off with his left hand, which seemed to be uninjured, and tried to sit up. The fiery pain that shot through his ribs stopped him from sitting up or moving period. The pain in his chest and difficulty breathing reminded Don of the time he was stabbed and collapsed a lung. He hoped his shallow rapid breaths weren't caused by a rib that jabbed into his lung.

Don waited for the pain to subside, _"Okay Eppes, get your thoughts together. How am I going to get myself out of this one?"_

Don could tell his leather jacket and jeans were ripped to shreds, he could feel the raw scrapes on his back and legs sting against the pressure of him laying on them.

Don felt around the waistband of his jeans in attempt to find his cell phone so he could call 911 but was dismayed to find that it was no longer in its holder on his belt. Don let out a moan of frustration but instantly regretted it when the pain in his chest flared. The pain sent him into a blissful unconscious sate.

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Paul Watson was driving up the Pacific Coast Highway looking for a place to pull over and take some photographs. He was in California on vacation for several weeks and was an avid photographer. He pulled over along a straight stretch of the highway to take some photos of the ocean and the hills around it. As he surveyed the surroundings and got his camera gear set up he noticed a mangled motorcycle lying on the hill side. After looking around some more he noticed a man laying at the bottom of the hill where it leveled, just a few feet from where the cliff dropped off into the rocky ocean.

"Hey! Hey sir! Can you hear me?" Paul yelled down to the still form.

After getting no response he pulled out his cell phone and called 911. The operator assured him that help was on the way and should arrive in about 30 minutes. Paul climbed down the hill to check on the injured man. He gently put his fingers on the man's neck to check the pulse, it was weak but there. He noticed the man's breathing was shallow and labored. He could tell through the torn jacket that his right arm was definitely broken.

"Sir can you hear me?" Paul tried again but got no response from the injured motorcyclist. He saw the helmet lying nearby but wasn't sure if it had fallen off during the descent or if the man had woken up earlier and taken it off on his own. Either way by the looks of the helmet Paul was sure the man had a nasty concussion.

Several minutes later Paul could hear the sirens approaching so he climbed up the hill to flag them down. The first vehicle to arrive was a police car with two officers.

"I'm Paul Watson, I found the man when I stopped to take some pictures of the scenery. It looks like he crashed his motorcycle and slid down the hill. He's unconscious but alive at the bottom." Paul said to the two officers.

"I'm officer Chris Hanson and this is my partner Officer Ray Dawson. The ambulance should be here in 3 minutes. You stay up here and we will go down and check on the guy." Paul nodded as the two officers descended down the 30 foot slope.

When the two officers arrived where the accident victim was lying, he was starting to come around.

Officer Hanson knelt beside him and asked, "Can you hear me sir?"

Don slowly blinked, "Yeah."

"I'm Officer Hanson with the Santa Monica Police Department; you've been in an accident. An ambulance is on its way. Can you tell me your name?'

"Don…Eppes. FBI"

"You're an FBI agent?" Don nodded, "Alright Agent Eppes can you tell me what happened?"

"Earthquake…lost control, crashed."

"Agent Eppes, the paramedics are here, they're going to get you to a hospital. Is there someone you want us to call to meet you there?"

"Fiancée Robin….Brooks."

The paramedics quickly took over. They placed a c-collar around his neck and put a splint on his right arm before strapping him to a backboard and carrying him up the hillside.

Once in the ambulance the paramedics placed an oxygen mask over Don's mouth and nose before they started cutting off the remains of his leather jacket and shirt before placing gauze over the cuts and scrapes that covered his body.

Don blacked out again on the ride to the hospital despite his and the medic's best efforts to keep him awake.

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After his arrival at the hospital Don had undergone surgery to repair his arm and place a chest tube to repair the hemothorax he suffered when one of his broken ribs pierced his lung.

Don was black and blue all over and was covered with scrapes and scratches. The largest of the scrapes was on his right thigh from sliding across the asphalt. There was a smaller, but just as painful, scrape on his lower back that made lying down or sitting with his back against something painful but he didn't really have any other option since his four broken ribs and broken arm wouldn't allow him to lay on his stomach or side.

He had a cast on his right arm that went from his shoulder to his hand with only his fingers sticking out. He'd broken both bones in his lower arm and the bone in his upper arm along with dislocating his shoulder. The casted extremity rested in a sling across his chest.

It had been three days since the earthquake and Don's subsequent motorcycle accident. The earthquake had a magnitude of 6.8.

Don was sitting in his hospital bed, propped up with pillows talking to Robin and his father. He was feeling slightly better than he had been three days ago due to all the morphine he was receiving and that he was able to breathe easier, although he was still assisted by a nasal cannula.

Don was finally awake and aware enough to carry on a conversation. "What happened to my bike?" Don asked Robin and Alan.

"Your bike was totaled, I'm sorry Sweetheart." Robin said as Don sighed softly so as not to aggravate his injuries, "It's been taken to a junk yard."

"Donnie don't tell me you're thinking of repairing or replacing you midlife crisis mobile after this." Alan exclaimed.

Don huffed a small laugh but instantly regretted it when his ribs protested. "No Dad, I'm not gonna get a new motorcycle any time in the near future. Besides, it would be at least three months, if not longer before I could ride again."

"Good. Motorcycles are dangerous. They don't mix well with earthquakes. Which if you haven't noticed we have a lot of them in California."

"Dad the accident wasn't anyone's fault. It wasn't really something that could have been prevented. It was an anomaly really; we rarely get earthquakes that strong. Most of the time if you're riding during an earthquake you don't even feel it."

Alan huffed and said he was going to get coffee for Robin and himself.

Don shifted slightly in bed and winced.

"Are you okay Don? Don you want me to get a nurse to get you some more morphine?" Robin had a concerned look on her face.

"No, I'm okay. The scrapes on my leg and back are just a little sore from the pressure. And the doctor set up a pump so I can just push this button when I need it." Don explained as he showed his fiancée the self administering morphine pump.

"I think we are going to have to push the wedding back a couple of months." Robin said as she brushed a hand through his hair.

Don smiled at her ministrations. "Good thing we haven't mailed out invitations yet." They were set to get married in two months. They were going to have the ceremony and reception at the Ritz-Carlton and were expecting no more than 75 guests.

"I was actually going to do that today but it slipped my mind with everything that happened."

Don shifted again and winced in pain as his injuries protested the movement.

"You should rest Sweetheart. Take some more morphine and take a nap. I'll be here when you wake up."

Don pushed the button on the morphine pump before shifting to get more comfortable. He closed his eyes and thought about what had happened. The doctor predicted that with a lot of physical therapy his arm should be back to full range of motion within two months of getting the cast off but it would take longer to get his strength back. He was looking at a five month recovery from this. The thought didn't make him very happy but there was nothing he could do about it until he got the cast off in 8-10 weeks and could start pushing himself in therapy. But for now all Don planned on doing was sleep, he would worry about his recovery later.


End file.
